In some weird way to balance my life, I hate and not so much hate. Somehow it balances out. Soon, I'm going to be the old fuck and if I'm going to exist anywhere, I might need to produce again. Produce writing, anything.
I left work tonight. Crackheads everywhere. Drunks in my bar.  Shitheads everywhere.I don't understand from where they come from. Whatever. Bugs on my walls. Crackhead/methhead....didn't figure out who/the/what...